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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766703">can you hear my heart sing?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_origami/pseuds/call_me_origami'>call_me_origami</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zscribez/pseuds/kurosawa-sun'>kurosawa-sun (zscribez)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>30歳まで童貞だと魔法使いになれるらしい | Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?! (Manga), 30歳まで童貞だと魔法使いになれるらしい | Cherry Magic! Thirty Years of Virginity Can Make You a Wizard?! (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blame the Discord, Gen, M/M, Yuri on Ice AU, figure skating, thats not a tag yet but it should be, this was going to happen eventually, viktor!kurosawa, yuuri k!adachi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:35:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,640</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766703</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_origami/pseuds/call_me_origami, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zscribez/pseuds/kurosawa-sun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Adachi Kiyoshi has just returned home after a failed Grand Prix Final to relax and think about his future. Why has his idol and five-time champion Kurosawa Yuichi shown up in his mother’s onsen saying that he’s his new coach?!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adachi Kiyoshi &amp; Fujisaki Nozomi, Adachi Kiyoshi &amp; Tsuge Masato, Adachi Kiyoshi/Kurosawa Yuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>can you hear my heart sing?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Adachi develops a crisis, and Kurosawa develops a crush</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>okay so first off - this chapter might go through some changes in the coming weeks, depending on how we write the following chapters, but once again feel free to blame the discord for this! kurosawa-sun and i had this idea a good while ago and figured that it was about time that we made good on it! - call_me_origami, kurosawa-sun</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Turin, 2019 </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“And yet another <em> brilliant </em> program out of Yuichi Kurosawa! You can see he’s proud of that one, look at him out there,” the commentator’s voice over the loudspeaker was cheerful, breathless – like he’d been the one skating what was sure to be a record-breaking free skate instead of the five-time gold medalist currently out on the ice, doubled over his knees with a soft, satisfied smile over his handsome features.</p><p>The other commentator laughed. “Think it’s a gold, Scott?” The camera switched to them, two grinning older white men with black headsets over their heads in drab suits. The second commentator nudged the first with his elbow, pointing to where the skater had left the rink and was putting two slim plastic guards over the blades attached to his feet.</p><p>“Oh, you already know what I think, Terry,” he replied, chuckling – obviously, was what he meant, since Kurosawa had landed all his jumps with flawless ease, like the ice had wanted nothing more than to let him glide across it with all the grace and power of a god. “But we’ll leave it to the judges to decide.” The commentary switched off with a quiet click.</p><p>Adachi Kiyoshi pressed his spinning head between his knees and tried to remember how to breathe.</p><p>Three hours ago, Adachi Kiyoshi had finished his first free skate in his first Grand Prix Final.</p><p>Three hours ago, he had flubbed every jump and landed himself solidly in sixth place. Dead last.</p><p>Was he re-watching Kurosawa’s gorgeous, world record-setting free program, over and over on repeat as if he could absorb some of that brilliance and elegance into himself if he just focused hard enough, instead of going down to the banquet and socializing as he should be? No. Definitely not. Don’t believe everything on the Internet, kids – Adachi definitely, absolutely, was not engaging in his worst coping mechanism, not at all.</p><p>“Adachi!” There was an insistent and unfortunately familiar banging at the door to his hotel room, pulling him violently from his spiraling thoughts. “What are you even doing in there? You have sponsors too, you know!”</p><p><em> Not now </em>, he groaned internally, figuring that if he stayed quiet long enough then the intrusion would get bored or try looking for him somewhere else. The lights were off. He was very easy to overlook. It shouldn’t be so far-fetched of an idea that he’d assume Adachi was either sleeping or not there, and he really didn’t have the energy to deal with his coach right then.</p><p>No such luck.</p><p>“Honestly,” his coach unlocked the door to the hotel room – and with what key, he wondered, since Adachi usually had the room to himself – and let himself in, stopping dead at the sight of Adachi curled up on the floor in front of the bed staring up at the mounted television, “oh, you’re still awake? Why are all the lights off?”</p><p>“U- Urabe-sensei,” he stammered, scrambling to his feet, “what are you doing here? You should be-,”</p><p>“Down at the banquet, yes,” his coach replied with a slightly tipsy grin, “which is exactly where you should be too, Adachi. Don’t make me drag you.”</p><p>Adachi held his hands up in protest against his approaching coach, the inevitable settling into his stomach heavy as iron. “I- I’m really not in the mood, sensei, please don’t make me go.”</p><p>“Nonsense!” Urabe replied, throwing an arm over Adachi’s shoulders and tugging him in against his side. “It’s your first Grand Prix banquet, come on! Drink a little, flirt a little, and <em> make nice with your sponsors </em>.” The last item on that list was hissed half-threateningly in Adachi’s ear, doing precious little for his already jumbled nerves.</p><p>Adachi resigned himself to his fate as Urabe dragged him out of his hotel room, and he was marginally grateful for the fact that he’d decided against changing out of his suit after the interview session post-final, so at least he wouldn’t be going down to the banquet in his pajamas, even if his hair was likely little more than a rat’s nest and there were definitely still visible tear tracks on his cheeks. There was little that could make his evening worse, but embarrassing himself even further with his unkempt appearance was still possible.</p><p>The banquet was in full swing when Urabe coaxed him through the doors of the hotel’s ballroom. Adachi waved to one of the other Japanese skaters that made eye contact with him (not Kurosawa, definitely not Kurosawa, but some younger kid that looked vaguely familiar regardless) as an older man that was definitely a sponsor gave him a discerning side-eye and an incomprehensible nod. </p><p>Adachi glanced over to the long line of tables at the back of the ballroom, where glass flutes filled with foamy, pale yellow liquid formed a legion across the bright red tablecloth. He didn’t drink - Adachi wasn’t much for alcohol in general, since his tolerance was low and it only served to heighten his anxiety unless he drank well over too much. But he’d had a rough day, which was only going to be an even rougher night if he had to spend it sober. Surely, one glass wouldn’t hurt?</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>Slumps sucked.</p><p>There was no other way to put it - Adachi had left Italy with his heart shredded under his skates somewhere still on the ice and his career in absolute shambles. What had he been thinking, even attempting to skate on the same ice as Kurosawa Yuichi? He shouldn’t have ever even tried. </p><p>Adachi returned to his hometown with a stone in the place where his heart used to be and a sinking feeling that his skating career was solidly <em> over </em>. </p><p>His mother wasn’t at the train station when he arrived, and he wasn’t expecting anyone anyway. Adachi Yumi worked long hours, and she’d told him before he’d even boarded his flight that it was unlikely that she’d be able to get off work in time to greet him, but that she’d be waiting at home with a warm meal and a decent bed to sleep in that wasn’t the sharp incline of an airline or train seat seat. Adachi was greatly looking forward to it. </p><p>What he wasn’t expecting to see when he stepped onto the platform was a small woman in the front of the terminal entrance, looking around intently and grinning as she caught sight of him. </p><p>“Adaki!” The woman, dressed in a long green skirt and an impossibly-soft looking grey sweater over a white-collared button-down, dark hair pulled neatly out of her face into a low bun, rushed towards him instantly, swiftly navigating through the crowds of people with a bright smile and brighter eyes. Everything about her was softly bright, warm and inviting and radiating kindness.</p><p>Adachi stumbled to a stop, shocked. What was she doing here? The only people who were supposed to know when his train arrived were his mother and Tsuge, and the latter was busy studying. Did he text her? Did they even <em> know </em> each other?</p><p>The woman stopped in front of him with outstretched hands, gently taking his own in hers and squeezing lightly. Her fingers were warm against his own skin, chilled from exhaustion and too-cold air-conditioning from both the flight and the train. “You’re back! It’s so good to see you!” </p><p>Adachi laughed nervously, but her smile only softened even further. “Hi, Fumi,” he said breathlessly, squeezing her fingers back once before pulling away, “it- it’s good to see you too.” </p><p>Fujisaki Nozomi was his oldest friend. Fujisaki Nozomi was the reason he got into skating in the first place. Fujisaki Nozomi… should not have known when he was going to get back. </p><p>Adachi waited until they had left the crowded train station, his carry-on strapped over his back and his suitcase in hand, to speak again. </p><p>“How did you-,”</p><p>“Your mother,” Fujisaki said smoothly, guiding him through the sidewalks from the station and up the road, instinct leading them both towards the center of town as she glanced at his mask and bags and tired eyes, “she didn’t want you to come home alone.”</p><p>“Right,” Adachi replied, ruffling his hair and unhooking the surgical mask from his ears, “she’s working, then?” His mother ran a <em> ryokan </em> near a ski resort - last time they’d spoken, she hadn’t taken on any new staff to help run the place, and even Fujisaki had mentioned that his mother wasn’t letting her volunteer during the busiest times since Fujisaki wouldn’t accept pay for it. </p><p>Fujisaki nodded as they turned onto their street, passing her own house as they grew closer to his. “She was up early this morning preparing for the rush, since it’s getting close to the high months.” Fujisaki slipped her arm through his own briefly, squeezing his bicep under her hand before letting go. “She’ll be cooking dinner, though.”</p><p>The sunset lit the <em> ryokan </em> in shades of red and gold as Fujisaki and Adachi approached, dark wood shining like fire in dying sunlight as the electric lights illuminating the entrance switched on and bathed the cobblestone pathway in a soft glow. There was steam rising in the air behind the building where the <em> onsen </em>lay and the faintest echoes of chatter and clattering dishes from the occupants inside grew louder as they drew closer. Adachi felt something in him seize, tightening and relaxing painfully as dread settled in his stomach.</p><p>His mother had to know. Fujisaki had to know too, but she hadn’t said anything yet - and why hadn’t she said anything? Wasn’t she disappointed? But the looming prospect of facing his mother, after having been away from home for so long specifically for training and then proceeding to fail absolutely miserably in his first Grand Prix Final, almost overwhelmed any excitement he might have felt at being home again.</p><p>Adachi just didn’t want to disappoint anyone. And then he’d gone and disappointed <em> everyone </em>.</p><p>“Adaki?” Fujisaki asked quietly by his side. They’d stopped right at the <em> ryokan’s </em> entrance, right in front of the doorway with his hand extended just far enough to brush the handle with his fingertips. Adachi felt frozen to the ground. “Adaki, are you going inside?”</p><p>“Yeah,” he said shakily, suddenly able to move again as he shook his hair with one hand and wiped the other on the leg of his pants. Yes, he was going inside. Yes, he could open the door.</p><p>He opened the door to a rush of warm air and the comforting chatter of patrons eating dinner. His mother, thankfully, wasn’t in the main greeting hall. Several people turned to look at him as the door opened, several familiar faces going wide and bright with recognition in turn.</p><p>“Adachi-kun?” Someone said, but he couldn’t tell who it was. “Is that Adachi-kun? Is he home?”</p><p>Suddenly there were people swarming him – too many, too close, too much for him to deal with in such a small space with so much running through his head.</p><p>“Give him some space, everyone,” Fujisaki’s voice cut cleanly through the chatter, soft and gentle and unimposing but still firm enough that everyone listened, “he’s had a long flight, and a long ride home. I’m sure Adaki just wants some dinner and rest.”</p><p>The crowd dispersed, the hands that had been reaching for him suddenly pulling away and the bright grins and loud congratulations in his eyes and ears fading, the noise in his head lowering to a tolerable level. “Thanks, Fumi,” he said gratefully, sending her a shaky smile.</p><p>“Go see your mother,” Fujisaki said softly, gesturing to the back of the onsen where the kitchen would be despite the fact that it was Adachi that had grown up in the onsen, “she missed you a lot.”</p><p>He’d missed her too.</p><p>But she’d be kind. Too kind. He didn’t want to hear it just then. Really, he didn’t want to think about skating at that moment at all. He turned towards the kitchen, steeling himself with several steady breaths.</p><p>“Adaki,” Fujisaki was beside him again, “if you need to drop by and practice, just text me. I’ll let the front desk know that you’re coming, they’ll let you in without any problems.”</p><p>He nodded thankfully, smiling at her again as he watched her go. Fujisaki was a good friend – better than he deserved, really. Adachi should have at least brought home a medal for her.</p><p>Adachi sighed, releasing all the tension from his shoulders as he took several long, faux-confident strides that would take him to his mother, failing to contain the anxious way he bounced on the balls of his feet with every step. He could see her face already, kind but disappointed as she tried to hide it. Her son, the dime-a-dozen figure skater, had come home to her still little more than a dime-a-dozen figure skater.</p><p>The wooden doors leading to the kitchen were warm under his fingertips, smooth and without splinters. They swung open as easily as they always had, even when he’d been young and shy and hesitant rather than older and still shy and far more hesitant.</p><p>There was a blur of motion as the doors opened, the soft squeak of under-oiled hinges as they swung back in on themselves, and suddenly Adachi had a warm, familiar body in his arms.</p><p>“Kiyoshi!” His mother threw her arms around his shoulders, and he felt the slight chill of batter on his neck from the wooden spatula in her hands. “You’re finally home!”</p><p>He had to stoop to hold around his mother’s waist, hugging her back just as fiercely. Adachi had missed her presence terribly, but it hadn’t hit him quite so badly as in that moment how much he’d missed her hugs.</p><p>“I’m home, Mom,” he replied softly, ducking his head into the soft dark hair he’d inherited from her and trying not to cry. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>Warm hands rubbed soothingly up and down his back. “Kiyoshi, sweetheart, what on earth are you sorry for?”</p><p>He clutched her tighter, buried his face in her neck like he was six again and had just fallen on the ice for the first time. “I lost, didn’t I?”</p><p>Yumi pulled back instantly, cupping his face in her work-weathered hands and smiling at him with his eyes and his mouth and his round cheeks. “I am so <em> proud </em>of you, Kiyoshi. You made it to the Grand Prix Final! You got to skate on the same ice as your idol! Aren’t you proud that you made it that far?”</p><p>Adachi felt the tears well up in his eyes without permission, blinking them furiously back. “Mom-,”</p><p>“I won’t hear any of this,” his mother replied firmly, squeezing his face gently between her hands before releasing him to grab at his fingers and drag him over to the countertop, “not one more word out of you, Kiyoshi. You’ve had a long flight, and a long season, and I doubt they’ve been feeding you properly over there.”</p><p>As a certified JSF skater training in the United States, he’d had plenty of opportunities to sample all sorts of cuisines. None of it compared to his mother’s cooking.</p><p>“Of course not,” Adachi replied with a smile, sniffling slightly and swallowing down the residual tightness in his throat. “Nothing compares to your cooking, Mom.”</p><p>“That’s right,” she nodded her head in time with her wooden spatula, stirring absently at several sauces as she eyed him, “and you’ve lost weight, haven’t you? My boy’s too skinny. We need to feed you, you look like you’re wasting away.” She pulled a plastic ladle from the rack of utensils behind the stove and a small ceramic bowl from the cabinet above her head, ladling a dark broth into a bowl and filling it with soba noodles and several pieces of meat, keeping stern eyes on his face as she did so. “Did they keep you from sleeping, Kiyoshi? I’ll call that damned Urabe-sensei myself if he’s kept you on too many long hours.” His mother set the bowl in front of him and gestured for him to eat. Adachi nodded, pressing his palms together and quickly thanking her before digging in. The broth was warm and savory, the noodles dense and chewy and the meat flavorful and tender, almost making him forget about the question his mother had asked. Adachi cupped under his chin as several drops of broth dropped from a half-slurped noodle, shaking his head vigorously as he swallowed.</p><p>“No- no!” He exclaimed quickly, waving his hands and laughing breathlessly, even as the awkwardness built back up in his chest. Adachi dropped his waving hands to his lap and wrung anxiously at his fingers. “A-actually, I didn’t renew my contract with Urabe-sensei.”</p><p>The spatula clattered to the countertop, droplets of sauce flying through the air and splattering against his mother’s cheek. She didn’t even seem to notice. “You what?” His mother sounded more shocked than upset, which was better than he’d expected.</p><p>Adachi nodded, and his mother studied him even more intensely for a few long moments. “Kiyoshi, you <em> love </em> skating.”</p><p>He nodded again. “I do.”</p><p>“Do you have a new coach?”</p><p>He shook his head. “No.”</p><p>Yumi narrowed her eyes in confusion before her face smoothed over with a gentle smile, her hand rising to his face to pat his cheek affectionately. “Never mind this, then. It’s not important right now.”</p><p>Adachi sighed, relieved. “Do you need any help?”</p><p>“No,” his mother shook her head, turning back to her pots, “you just sit there and let me talk at you.</p><p>So Adachi sat and let his mother talk at him, listening as she described the influx of Westerners to the onsen who were completely lost when it came to the general customs of using the hot springs. Most of the people she had personally encountered were politely embarrassed when it came to their lack of knowledge yet were receptive to learning, but she relayed a few particularly funny stories about having to throw out the more aggressive guests who assumed incorrectly that Yumi’s rather small stature would have any effect on her ability to physically drag someone out of her inn if they tried to yell at her about her rules. By the time that the sun had fully set, Adachi felt better than he had in weeks.</p><p>“I think,” he started, drumming his fingers lightly on the wooden countertop and waiting until his mother was looking at him to continue, “Fumi offered to let me in to the rink if I wanted, and I’ve been trying to keep practicing even if I’m not in the competitive circuit anymore, and I-,” he broke off, ruffling his hair in frustration as the words kept coming even though they weren’t the <em> right </em> ones. His mother smiled softly, nodding once.</p><p>“Of course, Kiyoshi. I was more surprised that you didn’t try to escape as soon as you got here. Don’t stay too long, though, you need to rest.” She reached over the counter to pat at his hand before waving him off.</p><p> The dining room was just as lively as it had been when he’d entered, but this time no one rose to crowd him even if there were several smiles directed his way. Adachi waved awkwardly to everyone, even the people he didn’t recognize, as he picked his bags back up and brought them down the side hallway to his and his mother’s living spaces. His room was exactly as he’d remembered, not a speck of dust to be seen.</p><p>Adachi sighed, setting his suitcase up on his bed and dropping the carry-on backpack next to it, unzipping the larger suitcase to get at the small bag tucked away in one of the compartments.</p><p>His skates were heavy in his hands, heavier than they usually felt. He emptied the contents of his carry-on onto his bed, hastily stuffing a change of workout gear and the skates into the bag and tossing it carelessly over his shoulder.</p><p><b>Heading over</b>, he texted Fujisaki as he left the <em> ryokan </em>, feeling like he needed to elaborate but unsure of what to say. His breath hung in the air as he exhaled, warming his nose and cheeks as he pulled a mask up over his mouth.</p><p><b>Great!</b> She responded instantly, followed by a cat sticker holding two thumbs up. <b>I’ll let them know you’re coming</b><em>. </em></p><p>He sent his thanks in response and started at a brisk jog. Adachi hadn’t done much in the way of exercising since he’d spectacularly flopped at the Japanese Nationals, and he was starting to feel it in the sharp pain in his lower abdomen as his body protested against running. Adachi’s sneakers hit the ground one step after the other, jolting up his legs as he pushed some of his nervous energy into the pavement, feeling a little lighter and breathing a little less unsteadily as his legs mindlessly took him to the place they knew almost better than his own home.</p><p>Higashiagatsuma Ice Rink didn’t loom before him so much as welcomed him with open doors that took some of his self-imposed layers off as soon as he crossed the threshold, stripping away all the weeks and months of stress and anxiety and failure and leaving behind only the young boy stepping on the ice for the first time with wobbly legs and baby deer-balance.</p><p>Well, Adachi laughed quietly to himself, he was slightly better at standing on the ice now than he was then.</p><p>“Sorry,” came the voice at the desk, “we’re closing soon – not renting out anymore- oh, my <em> God </em>!” The voice, high and vaguely familiar, cut off into an even higher shriek as they presumably caught sight of Adachi.</p><p>Adachi waved, meeting the eyes of the young woman behind the desk. One of Fujisaki’s friends, he thought, but he couldn’t remember which one.</p><p>He almost sighed – it really had been too long since he’d been home.</p><p>“Um,” he started awkwardly, “uh- Fujisaki Nozomi should have told someone that I’d-,”</p><p>“Yes!” She replied quickly, bobbing her head enthusiastically. “Absolutely, stay as long as you like, it’s mostly empty now and we close to the public in five minutes. Fujisaki said you’d want some privacy.”</p><p>Adachi nodded, giving her a small smile as he headed towards the men’s locker rooms behind the desk. It was completely silent as he entered, changing into his workout gear. The rink was empty as well as he sat on one of the benches and laced up his skates. They didn’t feel as heavy on his feet as they had in his hands.</p><p>The ice didn’t look as unforgiving now as it had every time he’d stepped on it since the Final, either. Adachi didn’t feel that sinking dread, that awful sense of impending disaster. He just felt quiet.</p><p>His skates scraped loudly against the ice as he finished his warmup figure eights and settled in the middle of the rink, the sound echoing off the walls as music began to play in his head, a lonely aria that he’d been practicing on and off just for the purpose of doing <em> something </em> after his disastrous performance at the Grand Prix Final. Adachi closed his eyes and let the program move through him, let the story tell itself through the twists and turns of his body. He let the jumps happen as they happened, mildly surprised when some of them ended up being fairly decent. Most of them, actually.</p><p>Adachi wanted to roll his eyes at himself – of course, it was only when no one was watching that he could land every jump perfectly, even if they weren’t exactly the ones meant for this particular program. A triple instead of a quad here, a toe loop instead of a loop there, an interesting entry that made for an interesting exit elsewhere. He didn’t allow himself to get too worked up about the particulars, only focusing on the music in his head and his skates on the ice. It was just him and the empty air. If he made a few changes to the program, no one would ever know.</p><p>He opened his eyes at the end of the final pose to enthusiastic clapping and a harsh shushing sound, turning to see three women at the entrance to the rink.</p><p>Two of them were holding up cell phones. One of them was the woman at the front desk, the other another vaguely familiar woman that might have gone to school with him and Fujisaki. And behind them, looking at him with a mixture of anxiety and pride, was Fujisaki herself.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Adaki,” she started quietly as he skated over, leaning over the barrier and clasping one of his hands with her own.</p><p>“I’m not!” The second woman interrupted incredulously. “Did you see that? Adachi-kun, no wonder you were away for so long! You’re an amazing skater!”</p><p>“This program looks familiar,” the first woman mused, tapping at something on her phone, “hey, isn’t this-,”</p><p>“Enough, you two,” Fujisaki said with a nervous laugh, glancing between Adachi and the other two with wary eyes, “I’m sorry, Adaki, I’ll get them out of here.”</p><p>He shook his head. “It’s alright,” he pulled his hand away, dipping his head at her friends somewhat awkwardly, “thank you both. I’m pretty tired, though, so I think I’ll be heading home now.” He pushed past all three of them to get to the locker rooms, vaguely aware of Fujisaki talking behind him.</p><p>Fujisaki would take care of it. No one else would ever have to know that he skated Kurosawa Yuichi’s program in his hometown rink just weeks after obliterating his career.</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>Adachi woke to the sound of a furious cellphone buzzing against the hardwood of his nightstand, and threw his hand around clumsily before his fingers closed over the device and silenced it.</p><p>It was too early to answer any calls. He wasn’t in the mood for it. Adachi tossed his forearm across his eyes and groaned loudly against the sunlight filtering in through his blinds. Honestly, he’d come home to get away from all the people trying to contact him. Who was calling him so early, anyway?</p><p>Adachi sighed, grabbing at his phone and blearily blinking at the screen as it lit up again, bolting up in his bed as the caller ID registered in his sleep-addled brain.</p><p>“Tsuge?” He answered the call, scrubbing at the crusted sleep in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Shouldn’t you be editing?” Tsuge Masato should have been in class, actually, considering he was fourteen hours behind Adachi in the United States, working on his degree and writing a novel at the same time.</p><p>“I skipped class,” came Tsuge’s hushed voice on the other end, “Adachi, what did you do? You’re trending on US Twitter for some YouTube video but it’s country-locked and I can’t see it.”</p><p>Trending? Adachi hadn’t posted anything to YouTube, and he barely even had a Twitter account – how could he be trending?</p><p>“I- I have no idea,” he replied honestly, sitting up cross-legged and tangled in his blankets as he rolled his neck and cracked his sore back, “a video? What sort of video?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Tsuge said, baffled. Adachi racked his brain for anything that would have caused him to be trending on any sort of social media.</p><p>It hit him just as his phone buzzed with another incoming call, his blood running more like ice in his veins as anxious adrenaline flooded his system. No- no, no, <em> no </em>. Fujisaki took care of the videos, just like she always did whenever someone was caught taping him at the rink.</p><p>Adachi’s stomach roiled around like it was about to forcibly crawl its way up his throat. This could not be happening.</p><p>“I’ll call you back, Tsuge,” he said faintly as he ended the call and accepted the next one, his vision going woozy and spinning, his head feeling lighter than air as Fujisaki’s voice filled his ears. His heart pounded almost too loudly for him to register anything that she was saying. Almost.</p><p>“Adaki, I’m so sorry,” she said instantly, sounding near tears, “I thought they deleted it, they told me they’d deleted the videos, but I should have made sure, I’m so sorry-,”</p><p>“It’s okay,” he said distantly, the sound watery in his ears, just before he fainted.</p><p>**</p><p>“-aki? <em> Adaki! </em>”</p><p>Adachi regained consciousness slowly. First, he felt a slight tingling in his numb fingers and toes as feeling trickled back down his nerves. Second was the throbbing in his head – he’d fallen, but when had that happened? Adachi had somehow managed to get himself from sitting cross-legged on his bed to flat on his back on his cool hardwood floors. His hand raised instantly to the point of pain and batted ineffectually at it several times before he realized thirdly that he was still on call.</p><p>“Fumi?” He picked up the phone and switched it to speaker. “Was I out for long?”</p><p>“A little less than a minute,” she replied shakily.</p><p>“Oh.” Not too bad, then – he’d passed out for longer before. Adachi felt terribly exhausted, even though he’d just woken up. His arms were heavy as he lifted his hands to his face and dropped them in his palms, resisting the urge to cry where Fujisaki could hear.</p><p>She inhaled sharply. “The original video was taken down, but there are still copies. I-,” she cut off, sighing with some amount of frustration that he’d never really heard from her before, “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but-,”</p><p>“Kiyoshi? Are you alright?” His mother knocked on the other side of his door. She’d likely heard him fall. “It’s early, are you going to go skate?”</p><p>Adachi groaned loudly, not caring who heard. If he never stepped foot on the ice again only to embarrass himself as badly as he’d done yesterday, he’d consider it a miracle. “No, Mom. Not today.” He sighed, picking his phone back up. “Sorry, Fumi. Can you tell me later? I’ll be working today, I think.”</p><p>“Resting!” His mother called on the other side. “And tell Nozomi-chan that I say hi!”</p><p>Adachi laughed. “My mother says hello.”</p><p>“Hello, Adachi-san,” Fujisaki replied, voice still tense with whatever she had to tell Adachi.</p><p>“I’ll talk to you later?” He asked, dreading whatever bad news she had and wanting to put it off for as long as possible.</p><p>Fujisaki was momentarily quiet. “Yeah, Adaki. We can talk later. Just- don’t panic, okay? Everything will be fine.”</p><p>Adachi nodded, saying his goodbye and waiting for hers before hanging up. He pulled on an old sweater from his suitcase and opened the door to see his mother still standing there, familiar eyes tight with concern as her arms crossed over her chest. She eyed him for a moment, taking in his rather disheveled appearance. Mother and son stood silently in the hallway for several seconds until something seemed to occur to her, eyes lighting up as she bounced in place.</p><p>“Oh!” She glanced down the hallway and back to Adachi, waving her hands excitedly. “There’s a <em> very </em> handsome young man that just showed up, Kiyoshi, you should go say hi!” Her excitement dulled for a moment. “Well, he’s in the <em> onsen </em>, so don’t come on too strong, but when we serve breakfast, you’re bringing him his!”</p><p>Adachi sighed. “Mom-,” he broke off, chuckling. She did this sometimes, tried to set him up with every handsome young man that walked through her doors. “Did you even get his name, before you decided to try and set me up with him?”</p><p>She scoffed in mock offense, swatting at his arm. “Of course I did! Now, gosh, what was it? Kuro- Kuro-something. Kurosa-,” </p><p>Adachi nearly passed out again, spluttering on his own saliva as he felt another chill run through him from head to toe. No- not possible. It couldn’t be. “<em> Kurosawa </em>?”</p><p>“Yes!” She snapped her fingers. Adachi felt a very large part of himself die instantly. “Kurosawa. Only gave his family name, which was odd, but I’m not one to judge, and- oh, hey, Kiyoshi, stop running!”</p><p>Adachi took off down the hall, sliding around waking patrons and avoiding the few other staff that his mother had taken on as they carried trays of food into the dining area. The <em> onsen </em> was in the back of the building, just around this corner and that one and-</p><p>Adachi burst through the doors to the hot spring fully clothed and barefoot, panic rising in his chest alongside a tiny, tiny measure of excitement. He looked around – the bath was mostly empty, except for a strikingly slender figure sitting in the corner of the spring looking pensively out into the distance. His head turned at the sound of Adachi’s entrance, and he caught dark eyes widening as a small smile split the man’s face (and yes, he was handsome, so terribly, awfully, wonderfully handsome that Adachi’s heart skipped several beats in his chest at the sight of that smile).</p><p>“Adachi Kiyoshi?” The man padded over to the edge of the bath, crossing his arms atop the stone wall and resting the side of his face against a toned forearm.</p><p>Adachi nodded dumbly, conscious of his old clothes and tangled bedhead and morning breath.</p><p>Kurosawa Yuichi grinned even wider, creases around his eyes giving him the illusion of cat-like whiskers. It was entirely too attractive – that, or the steam in the bathhouse was getting to him. “Well, Adachi Kiyoshi. I’m here to be your coach.”</p><p>It was the heat – it must have been, even though he’d grown up in the <em> onsen </em> and hated the cold and had spent plenty of time in warm, humid parts of the world where ice never stood a chance. That was the only explanation for why Adachi dropped dead in an instant faint.</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
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